


Opening Lines

by Amarthril



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: F/M, blood warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 06:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10269908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amarthril/pseuds/Amarthril
Summary: In which Rosalind tries to find the perfect words to say to Robert when she meets him for the first time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I know Bioshock Infinite came out a while ago but I'm still not over these two :)  
> Serious blood warning here (there is lots of it) and an ad hoc medical procedure which you should definitely not try at home!

 

Rosalind pondered what her first words should be. It was a rare, no, impossible occasion when one spoke to oneself for the first time. She studied the wall of books lining the wall across from her. The authors of those must have put considerable thought into their own introductory sentences. But did they write the book with its first lines in mind, or did the lines only come to the author after?

Semantics, really. And not nearly comparable to meeting one’s own self from a different reality.

Of course they had already communicated extensively. But the dots and dashes of an atom transported between worlds would be nothing to seeing his face or hearing his voice. _Robert_. Interestingly their parents had opted for similar names. A variable to be sure, but it felt oddly, and rather comfortingly, like a constant. Had she been a man in this world would her parents have named her Robert too?

Perhaps then she should start with her name? Rosalind rose out of her armchair by the fire to inspect herself in the mirror over the mantelpiece. She tested the phrase in her head before saying it aloud,

“Hello I’m Rosalind Lutece, pleased to meet you.” A simple, polite introduction. Mother would be proud. Dissatisfied, she scrunched her nose. If she was being honest with herself, and she usually was, she wanted to impress him and simple introduction seemed underwhelming.

“Hello I’m Rosalind Lutece, pleased to meet us.” Clever, but a touch arrogant. Robert had agreed to come to her world, she didn’t want him thinking that she was somehow more _them_ than he was. No, they must be equal in everything.

Rosalind sighed, tucking away a loose strand of hair which had fallen across her cheek. Would he look much like her? Would they share the same strawberry-blonde hair? Or the same pink freckles? Even more so, would their freckles share the same placement? The probability was high but it still remained that his sex must have had some impact on his physical appearance.

The clock in the hallway chimed, rousing her from her thoughts. Outside the slightest red was beginning to creep over the clouds. At this point Rosalind would normally abandon the idea of sleep for the day. After staying up this late it seemed pointless to wrestle a couple hours sleep, which would only leave her more tired than before. But with Robert’s arrival tonight the best course would be to gather some rest.

As she climbed the stairs to bed a new greeting occurred to her. One which would acknowledge his place by her side as equal and solve the conundrum of introducing him to the Columbian community.

_Welcome brother._

Perfect.

* * *

 

The machine whirred, almost painfully. Rosalind estimated that she could run it like this for another ten minutes before it destroyed itself. Why was Robert late? Neither of them had been late before. A cold sickness slipped around her stomach. What if he had changed his mind? Or gotten lost between realities? She pushed the worries out of her mind, refusing to heed them.

Blue sparks of electricity crackled through air, nipping at Rosalind’s skin. She had been sure not to wear any metal on her but the danger of being immolated by her own machine was one she could never entirely rule out.

She opened the energy input lever on the Lutece field to its maximum setting and the machine hummed louder in response. The air vibrated and suddenly tore apart like a great curtain. Out of the fabric of the universe he stepped.  

She recognised him instantly. His blue eyes framed by copper-coloured lashes. His thin pink lips already curved in a smile that matched her own. Rosalind felt a thud in heart, like a cog fitting into place. Her Robert.

She stepped forward, wanting to reach out and touch him. To draw him into her world fully. Her greeting was already on her lips,

“Wel-” She stopped short, a shadow passed over his face and he swayed where he stood. She hastened to switch the machine off and close the tear, lest he fall back through. And then he was collapsing to the floor, she only managed to grasp his head to stop it impacting. But there was blood everywhere, streaming from his nose, staining their clothes, and seeping into the floorboards.

Rosalind ran to kitchen, snatching up every towel and napkin she could find. Anything to staunch the bleeding. All the while her mind was racing. She hadn’t studied medical science in years and her memory was rather lacking. But even if she had taken a recent course, it was unlikely she would find any information about the side effects of inter-dimensional travel. She would have to improvise.

Hurrying back to the study, she propped him against the wall. Lowering his head into a floral print tea-towel which filled up alarmingly quickly.

“Robert?” She tapped his cheek, assessing his consciousness. He didn’t respond but his eyes were fluttering rapidly beneath his closed lids.

Still he haemorrhaged from the nose. Rosalind felt the claws of panic grip her as she replaced yet another blood soaked towel. Melodramatic as it was, she couldn’t bear to lose him. It would be her fault if he died. She was the one who suggested he came to her world. She brought him through. She would be guilty of killing him. Manslaughter or suicide? Semantics she did not have time for.

Gradually, the blood flow lessened until only a trickle continued. His face had taken a pale, grey tinge to it and his pulse was weakened. Luckily there was something Rosalind remembered from her one university class on medical science. And it quite possibly would work. Given their physical similarities she guessed he would accept her blood as his own.

Before that he needed to be in a more comfortable situation. Hefting his arm over her shoulder she managed to half-drag, half-carry him on to the chaise lounge in front drawing room. Then she gathered the tools necessary from the laboratory. For the task at hand they were rudimentary at best but they would serve their purpose.

She dug the needle into her own arm first, ignoring the sharp pain that spread from the wound. Flexing her hand, she filled the small clear hose with her own blood, letting it squirt out the other end so no air bubbles remained. Then, apologising softly, she inserted the needle into Robert’s vein and let the blood flow through.

She remained like that for twenty minutes. Squeezing her hand into a fist, over and over, until she was light-headed and imagined a slight tinge returning to Robert’s cheeks.

* * *

 

Forty-three hours since Robert had passed unconscious at her feet and still he had not woken. Rosalind has barely eaten, barely slept and given him two more transfusions of her own blood in the meantime. She made up her own bed for him and rinsed the blood from his clothes as best she could.

The sunset bathed her bedroom in a warm, red glow. Like blood. Rosalind frowned at it, the sun seemed to think it had a sense of humour. Still in this light she could fool herself into believing that Robert was healthy, face flushed and vital like it should be.

Gently, she traced his features with her finger. The slight bump in his nose was just like hers. As was the crease between his brows. His hair too, was soft but a little dry like hers. The similarities, the constants, were endearing. And studying him so close was like looking into a mirror. She felt a possessiveness inside her chest again.

She had noticed the sensation growing over the past forty-three hours and scribbled a few notes in her journal when it came upon her. Robert drew her to him, like some kind of magnet. Short trips to the kitchen or the water-closet left her with a nagging sense of discomfort that only abated when she returned to his side. This might have been a result of the blood transfusion, now that his veins held a significant amount of her own blood. But Rosalind suspected something more. Tests would have to be run when Robert was back to health.

Just before the sun slipped over the horizon, Robert stirred. Rosalind sprang to his side, taking his hand in her own. His eyes flickered open and again she was taken aback by his gaze. She as looking into her own eyes and it fascinated and disconcerted her.

“Welcome, Brother.” She said softly. Robert smiled, the corners of his lips twitching weakly. Rosalind noted she felt the urge to smile too, but whether this desire was borne out of her connection to him or own happiness she could not tell.

 


End file.
